


we could last forever

by dreamsailing



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst and Feels, M/M, Sprinkled Fluff, more to come - Freeform, persistent ong and disassociating min, seongwoo is in a band, there's dogsitting involved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 04:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13450320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsailing/pseuds/dreamsailing
Summary: where minhyun couldn't live past twenty three, and seongwoo is the fool who falls for him anyway.





	we could last forever

_ the most _

_ beautiful part is, _

_ i wasn't even looking _

_ when i found you _

_\- a u t u m n_

 

i.

The first time Seongwoo met him, it wasn’t exactly a pleasant encounter.

Seongwoo was in a dilemma: he had three containers of _gyeongdan_ (from where Jisung has sneaked them into one of his moving boxes as a parting gift), far too many than he can consume alone. Food is great, Seongwoo is not an ungrateful prick, but the problem was he didn’t have a fridge then. He still had to go furniture shopping with Jaehwan the next weekend and the rice ball cakes would be spoilt then.

He spent minutes sitting on the floor, cheek pressed against his palm as he thinks of a solution.

Soon enough, an idea visits him and he’s quick on his toes, exiting his still bare flat with a container of _gyeongdan_ in each hand.

He’s met with cricketing silence with the first unit he tries knocking onto. After a few good seconds of trying again, Seongwoo moves to the next one. Room _404_ , the plate attached on the door reads.

He knocks, three times to be exact.

He resists the urge to press an ear against the door and chooses to knock again, longer this time.

His patience rewards him with the door being yanked open and a scowling face greeting him.

Standing by the door is a man around Seongwoo’s age, maybe a good inch taller than him, and clad in all black. His hair is unruly and Seongwoo notices the sleep marks on one cheek. Guilt immediately bubbles inside of him. He might have rudely wakened up his neighbor with his knocking.

Mustering a sheepish smile, Seongwoo carries on with his plan regardless.

“Hi, I just moved into 401 this afternoon,” he starts, “I’m Seongwoo, by the way, and I uh, I have way more than _gyeongdans_ I can stuff my mouth with and I think it’s better to share?” He raises both of his hands bearing the containers, extending them to the man.

His neighbor’s eyes examine the containers first, then they move to scan Seongwoo from head to toe.

There’s something about his neighbor’s stare that renders him immobile, and so he stays there planted; feeling a bit intimidated, like being scrutinized to his core down to his bones.

Seongwoo shifts on his heels to shake the chill that’s starting to build down his spine.

The man finally reaches for the plastic containers, gives Seongwoo a curt nod, before stepping back to close the door.

Seongwoo stumbles back, mind shutting down just as the door got shut before his face.

_Did I just get the door shut on my face instead of receiving thanks?_

He lets out a sigh, one bordering irritation and disappointment and scratches the side of his neck.

“Guess we’re not interested in being civil the least?”

He throws the door one last look before dragging himself back to his unit, his footsteps heavier than before.

 

ii.

There are two things Seongwoo learns today: _first_ , there’s a widening hole inside his wallet, and, _second_ , Kim Jaehwan is an insensitive piece of shit.

Said insensitive prick just picked the most expensive meal in the menu even knowing fully well that Seongwoo is close to breaking his bank from his furniture shopping.

“I should’ve just gone with Jisung hyung,” Seongwoo laments as he takes a peek at his wallet. His heart drops to the pit of his stomach upon seeing the few pieces of bills left inside.

“He’s busy enough with Daniel to cater you.” Jaehwan says, filling two glasses with water and sliding one towards Seongwoo. “And do I need to remind you I had to walk around Ikea with you for three painstaking hours? My feet hurt. I deserve this treat.”

Seongwoo sips on his glass instead of answering. He knows better than to argue.

Jisung already has too much on his plate lately, Seongwoo knows better than to impose another on Jisung, but glancing at Jaehwan being the cheeky shit that he is while anticipating for his steak order to arrive, he regrets not trying to ask Jisung to go shopping with him the least.

“Anyway, I’m surprised Daniel agreed to let Jjaenie live with you.”

“He can’t take care of Nini himself, and I told him he can’t depend on Jisung hyung to take care of her. Besides, he has a full load this semester and Jisung hyung’s shift at the hospital is crazy. I’m the only one who can actually take care of her.”

“Still, I expected Dan to put up a fight. Wouldn’t he like, have separation issues with Jjaenie or some sort?”

“I told them they can come visit on weekends. That settled it.”

“I still find it funny, though. She’s the only dog I know that has three dads.”

A giggle bubbles out of Jaehwan’s mouth and Seongwoo finds himself easily joining the other. Soon, they lost themselves in chains of conversations, about course works, detestable professors, even more detestable timetables, band practices and gig schedules, and a little bit of Sewoon.

The chime above the café’s door clinks, stealing Seongwoo’s attention from whatever he and Jaehwan were talking about for a moment.

He loses whatever piece of focus he has left when recognition dawns upon him: the same messy hair, pale but clear skin, and darker bags under eyes that are even more prominent than Seongwoo last remembers.

“Someone you know?” Jaehwan asks as he follows Seongwoo’s line of sight, catching on quickly.

“My neighbor.”

“Ah, the one who accepted the rice ball cakes without even saying thanks?”

Seongwoo couldn’t help but snort, recounting the encounter once more. He had been upset for a good number of minutes after that, but later on succumbed to the idea that maybe his neighbor is just aloof.

He stuck with the second notion ever since.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

Seongwoo’s eyes follow his neighbor as the latter makes a beeline to the counter and goes to find for a vacant table after placing his order.

“You kind of left out one vital information in your story,” Jaehwan says and Seongwoo’s attention falls back on his friend.

A waiter arrives with their orders and carefully places them on the table.

Seongwoo waits for the waiter to leave before asking, “What?”

“The fact that he’s handsome as hell,” Jaehwan says, pointing his knife at Seongwoo’s neighbor’s direction non-discreetly.

Seongwoo kicks him by the shin and the knife Jaehwan’s holding falls against the plate, clanking noisily. Seongwoo delights in the way Jaehwan’s face scrunches in pain before he ducks down to check his leg.

“You have Sewoon.” Seongwoo reminds tauntingly, picking up his own knife.

“I’m just saying!”

Seongwoo shakes his head and proceeds to cut his meat. He glances at the corner where his neighbor sits quietly, clear eyes staring blankly ahead.

Seongwoo purses his lips and goes back to his plate.

“He’s okay.”

 

iii.

“He’s okay now, the doctor said it was food poisoning but nothing serious. Jisung hyung’s attending to him right now.” Seongwoo explains through the phone, his voice significantly small in the hospital’s empty lobby.

“Will he be spending the night there? I can go pack his clothes for him.”

“I still have to ask Jisung hyung about that,” Seongwoo replies, throwing his head back to work on some kinks forming on his nape, “but the doctor said he’ll have to take some medications and rest for a while. You don’t need to worry, Youngmin-ah.”

Youngmin sighs on the other line and Seongwoo assures him one more time before hanging up.

He chucks his phone back to his coat’s pocket and scans the empty hallway. The trademark stench of hospitals makes him scrunch his nose.

He turns to a corner to head to where the vending machine is, deciding to get himself something warm while waiting.

What he does not expect, though, is too meet an all too familiar face, yet again.

“Hey,” the word slips out of Seongwoo’s mouth before he could even process it.

His neighbor turns towards him, eyes flickering in confusion while studying Seongwoo’s face.

Seongwoo saves him a breath and explains ahead.

“I’m Seongwoo, from unit 402,” he offers, but when said neighbor’s face remain perplexed, he adds, “the one who gave you the _gyeongdan_?”

His neighbor’s face finally breaks in realization, “Ah, that was you?”

A smile eases on Seongwoo’s lips. He straightens his back and takes a few steps closer. “Yeah, that was me.”

His neighbor nods at him before returning his attention back to the machine, crouching down to retrieve his drink.

“Don’t I get a name in return? I told you mine.” Seongwoo tries to press, testing.

His neighbor tilts his head a little, careful fingers encircling the rim of the cup. “I didn’t exactly ask for it, did I?”

Seongwoo fights the laugh that almost breaks out of him and settles with a grin instead, “But it’s the polite thing to do?” _And maybe saying thank you after being offered food?_ he wants to add, but ultimately keeps it to himself.

“Maybe I’m not polite,” said neighbor shrugs before turning on his heels to head towards the hospital doors.

If Seongwoo was being keen, he should have notice the lilt of irritation in his neighbor’s voice.

 

Too bad, he could be dense sometimes. Too bad, also, that persistence is deeply ingrained in Seongwoo’s being.

Seongwoo would like to believe he is charming person. Some say he has a way with people, and it just so happens that Seongwoo feels his social prowess is being tested by his neighbor’s demeanor.

Something inside him wants to break certain walls; a neighbor’s stand-offish character, for one.

 

It’s automatic. His feet carry him to follow his neighbor, hurried steps against the hospital’s pristine white tiles.

A warm breeze welcomes them both as they step out. Seongwoo turns to catch his neighbor scrunching his nose.

“Okay, not to sound creepy but I actually know your name already.”

His neighbor whips his head towards him and Seongwoo bites the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from laughing again.

For someone Seongwoo thought to be stoic at first, his neighbor sure does interesting expressions.

“Learned it from Sungwoon, from 401? He’s this small—”

“I know him,” Minhyun interjects sharply, sipping on his drink right after.

“Minhyun, right?”

Minhyun sighs, sounding a lot like he’s surrendering. “Why do you ask if you already know?”

“Just wanted to confirm,” he shrugs, “Is it Park Minhyun? Lee Minhyun? Ahn—”

“Hwang,” Minhyun provides, voice exasperated, “Hwang Minhyun.”

“Hwang Minhyun,” he mimics, testing how it rolls off his tongue.

He decides he likes it.

“Nice to finally know you, Hwang Minhyun.”

 

iv.

Seongwoo is desperate.

He just got a phone call from Sewoon telling him they’ve got a late notice about opening for a music festival in Busan tomorrow afternoon. The organizers wanted them at the venue by tonight for some run through and this is a big opportunity for their band, really, however Seongwoo couldn’t help but wish they could have informed sooner.

He’s stuck with _the_ Nini problem: who can he leave Nini with for the weekend?

Jisung is currently on duty and he cannot get ahold of Daniel. He cannot simply entrust his daughter to some stranger.

But he has no choice. Sungwoon is out and he’s left with the last option of knocking on Minhyun’s door.

With his backpack already hoisted on his back and Nini in his arms (and Nini’s bag leaning against his apartment’s door), Seongwoo walks back and forth the corridor. He can feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, probably Youngmin calling him to say he’s already outside Seongwoo’s complex.

With one last circle and in a moment of rushed confidence, Seongwoo finally knocks on Minhyun’s door.

He didn’t have to wait minutes this time.

When Minhyun opens the door, Seongwoo is quick to fall on his knees.

“Help me, please,” he pleads and Nini whines in his arms, sensing his owner’s distress. “I have an urgent thing to attend but I have no one to leave my dog with. So please, I will owe you forever, can you please look after her for the weekend?”

Seongwoo offers Nini towards Minhyun with outstretched arms, sporting his infamous kicked puppy face (which could battle with Nini’s, as per Daniel).

Minhyun’s face is torn between amusement and confusion as he stares back and forth at the dog and its owner.

“I uh, I actually do not know how to look after dogs,” Minhyun trails, his nose scrunching when he sees Seongwoo’s bottom lip jutting in disappointment.

“She’s a good girl! Really, you just need to feed her! She’s potty trained and doesn’t cause ruckus,” he says fast like in a marathon and he’s out of breath with the last syllable, “much.”

He places Nini down and dashes to pick up the bag full of Nini’s things.

“I have all her things ready here and if you have any question or emergency you can call me,” he pushes the strap of the bag into Minhyun’s palm in a manner that leaves the latter with no option but to accept.

“I’m—okay, listen—”

“Okay? Okay!” Seongwoo perks up and claps his hands in glee, picking up Nini and placing her in Minhyun’s arms.

Minhyun stumbles back but Seongwoo pays him no attention, too busy cooing at the dog while patting down it’s head.

“Be a good girl, okay? Dad will be back in no time.” Seongwoo adjusts the straps of his backpack and bids Minhyun goodbye with a clap on his shoulder. “Thanks, Minhyun! I’ll make it up to you when I come back!”

And he’s rushing towards the elevator. Gone.

Minhyun is left frozen on his spot with a whining dog in his arms, astounded.

When he finally breaks out of trance, he defeatedly looks down at the dog in his arms and the bag now lying against the floor.

“Idiot, he didn’t even leave his number.”

 

v.

Seongwoo comes back on Sunday evening, looking disheveled but still hyper as ever. He radiates energy; talks too much, moves endlessly, laughs too loud—Minhyun’s developing a headache. He wants to stay away.

“Thanks, Minhyun! I owe you big time!” Seongwoo exclaims as he scoops Nini from the floor, planting a smooch on the top of her head. “Everything went fine? You didn’t call me.”

“Because you didn’t give me the damn number and just ran away, you dumb idiot.”

Minhyun’s words sting and Seongwoo coils a little, embarrassed, “Sorry, I was really in a rush.”

Minhyun huffs in irritation before going back inside to retrieve Nini’s things. He shoves them to Seongwoo’s hand and crosses his arms.

“I-uh, I guess things weren’t easy?” Seongwoo asks, eyes staring at Minhyun’s through long lashes.

Wrong.

Nini was relatively easy to look after. As Seongwoo mentioned, she’s potty trained and didn’t run around much. She enjoys playing with her chew toy and lie on her belly when she’s tired. Minhyun even took her out for a walk.

But he’s not disclosing any of that. Not when he was practically forced into dog sitting, regardless whether the dog was loveable or not.

Minhyun leans against the door frame and lets Seongwoo crack through the expression he’s wearing: nothing. stoic. devoid of anything, and that’s worse than wearing irritation or anger.

At least Seongwoo has the decency to look guilty.

“I can take you to dinner? As payment?”

Minhyun squints at him and Seongwoo almost flinches. Almost.

Seongwoo stands his ground and fights down the embarrassment crawling up his neck.

“I know a restaurant that serves really good noodles and it’s just two blocks down.” He tries again but Minhyun doesn’t seem to waver, “Come on, I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t get to treat you after causing this trouble.”

Minhyun finally breaks, sighing with his head down and unfolding his arms. “And will you stop bothering me if I agree to this?”

Something must be really wrong, but something stirs inside of Seongwoo when Minhyun fixes his eyes on him along with that irritated look on his face. He finds it amusing whenever he manages to pull something out of the neighbor he once thought is perpetually stoic.

He considers it a crack on the wall he’s taken as a personal mission to break.

“We’ll see,” Seongwoo says.

He doesn’t promise, doesn’t provide a definite answer.

He knows he’s going to break it anyway.

 

vi.

The first time it happened, Seongwoo genuinely needed some help.

“Hey, can I ask for some salt? I ran out.” He says sheepishly, showing Minhyun the meat he’s brought on a plate with him.

Minhyun rolls his eyes at him but still went inside to fill a small container for him. He hands it to Seongwoo with excessive force, but the latter has already learned by now not to read negatively on the other’s action.

Minhyun is a ball of unreleased emotions, a tangled mess of frustrations, irritations—but Seongwoo would like to believe that at the core, at the center of Minhyun’s being, awaits something that needs to be freed.

“Thanks!” He says, walking back to his flat with a light spring on his steps.

 

One less tangled thread.

Another crack.

 

 

 

“Hey, how much water do I need to put to cook the rice?”

Seongwoo has brought with him his rice pot this time and Minhyun can only sigh, opening his door wide to let Seongwoo in and taking the rice pot with him to the kitchen to pour the excess water down the sink.

This is the first time for Seongwoo to cross the threshold and finally into Minhyun’s apartment.

He looks around. Minhyun has the basics—a couch, a coffee table beside it, a tv, a large shelf filled with books, plants lining up the window above the sink—however, Seongwoo couldn’t help but think it’s dull, awfully so, with the wall color in ash gray, the curtains white and most of the things in varying shades of black.

Seongwoo can literally feel his mood dampen by just standing in the middle of the room.

However, something inside his head finally clicks.

Everything inside this room is a reflection, a representation of Minhyun’s character—or, is it these things that cover, drain the colors out of Minhyun?

Seongwoo is pulled out of his thoughts when Minhyun pushes the pot back to his arms.

“Were you planning to cook porridge?” Minhyun says, pointing at the rice pot, “Next time just use the measuring cup. Put the same amount of water as with the rice you put in.”

Seongwoo nods and smiles, “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Really, how old are you? You don’t even know how to cook rice.” Minhyun shoots him another disapproving look, “Or you could have simply looked it up the internet instead of bothering me again.”

“But it’s more fun to ask you.” Seongwoo murmurs.

“What?”

“Nothing!”

Seongwoo dashes out of Minhyun’s apartment with the pot held close against his chest.

When he’s in the safe confines of his own flat, Seongwoo lets out the laugh he’s been holding.

He walks to the kitchen and places the pot into the cooker.

Truth is, Seongwoo knows how to cook rice as early as the age of ten.

He’s just being cheeky (and maybe just needed a reason to visit Minhyun).

 

 

 

“What are you doing, Seongwoo?”

Study materials are strewn across the floor with Seongwu in the middle of the mess.

“Studying?” He answers, looking at Minhyun over the book he’s holding.

“In my house?” Minhyun kicks at a book to walk towards the other. “Go back to your own!”

“But you give nice pointers, and you explain things well! Even better than most of my professors.”

Minhyun pinches the bridge of his nose after dumping himself on the couch, murmuring _I shouldn’t have helped you that one time_ under his breath.

“Just—go back now, Seongwoo.”

“Aw, don’t push me away.”

“Why do you even have to study here? You can study perfectly fine in your own room.”

“Can’t you really tell?” Seongwoo sets the book down on the floor, perching his chin on a palm as he fixes his gaze on Minhyun.

“Tell what?”

“Why I’m doing this.”

“To annoy me? Irk me? Cause me trouble? Anything to make fun of me?”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong, and wrong,” Seongwoo punctuates every word by crossing his arms to form an X.

Minhyun groans from the couch and Seongwoo delights at the scene.

 

Another untangled thread, a growing crack.

 

Seongwoo bites on his lip, studying the way Minhyun’s adams apple bob when the latter throws his head back against the couch.

“I’m actually trying to worm into your life.”

“What?” Minhyun faces him again, leaning with his elbows on his knees. “Just why, exactly?”

Seongwoo hums and scans the room with his eyes in the pretense of thinking for a reason. When his eyes fall on Minhyun again, he revels on the fact that for a good span of seconds, he was the sole object of Minhyun’s full attention.

“Just ‘cause you’re interesting.”

 

vii.

“This is a miracle.” Seongwoo is sporting an amused smile as he lets Minhyun in, eyes sparkling in amusement, “Hwang Minhyun coming into my house? Is the world ending?”

“You’re overreacting,” Minhyun responds, giving the plastic bag to Seongwoo. “They made it too spicy. Figured I can give it to you than just throwing it away.”

Seongwoo peeks into the bag to see _tteokbokki_ , freshly cooked they seem. He _oohs_ and goes to the kitchen to place it in a bowl.

When Seongwoo sits down to eat, Minhyun seats himself across him and studies him while eating. Seongwoo tells him it’s awkward but Minhyun only waves him off and tells him to just eat.

Later though, the chair scrapes against the floor as Minhyun stands up to fetch himself a small bowl and a fork.

Seongwoo laughs when Minhyun starts filling his own bowl.

“Thought it was too spicy for you?”

“Shut up. I still bought this, I can eat if I want.”

Seongwoo continues to tease him in between bites and in the course of it, Seongwoo notices something.

Minhyun’s ears are as red as cherry tomatoes.

Seongwoo shuts up and just smiles softly as they finish the whole serving together.

 

 

 

The second time Minhyun visits his flat, Seongwoo has learned how to control his emotions from showing.

Minhyun is leaning against the door frame as he looks over Seongwoo’s shoulder.

“Does Cheongie need to go out for a walk?”

“Cheongie?”

“Your dog,” Minhyun says a matter of factly, “You know you never got to tell me her name.”

Seongwoo breaks in a loud string of laughter, almost doubling over.

“You call my dog Cheongie? Stupid? Wow, Hwang Minhyun, you’re mean.”

“Not my fault, had to call her something,” Minhyun objects and passes through Seongwoo to fetch Nini herself.

Seongwoo follows behind, shoulders still bouncing in mirth. “Her name’s Jjaenie. But we call her Nini.”

“We?” Minhyun asks, already crouched down by Nini’s bed to take her in his arms.

“I co-adopted her with two of my friends.”

Minhyun nods and scratches the back of Nini’s ear, “I’ll call her Nini, too, then. Jjaenie just sounds stupid to me.”

Seongwoo loses his shit for the second time of the night. How could his neighbor say that with a straight face?

“We named her after a friend actually,” he says after his fit of laughter, “but I wouldn’t argue with that. The one she’s named after is pretty stupid too.”

Seongwoo is only a little dissatisfied when he wasn’t able to elicit the same reaction from his neighbor. But months after trying to know Minhyun, he’s already past the point of caring whether Minhyun responds to him or not.

Seongwoo has learned how to read past his silence, past his coldness, past his tendency of shutting himself out. Seongwoo knows there are museums lying behind the empty hallways Minhyun puts up as a façade.

“Go get your coat.”

Minhyun is already by the door when Seongwoo snaps out of it. He nods and quickly retrieves his coat in his bedroom.

The air is cold when they step out but warmth is quick to spread in Seongwoo’s chest as he studies Minhyun’s back when the latter runs after Nini who has already ran way ahead of them.

With every swing Seongwoo makes to take down Minhyun’s walls, he couldn’t help but think he’s losing a piece of his heart in the process.

 

 

**\+ 82 936 437 xxxx**

hey, can you get me some porridge (13:15)

 

**mincheong**

who is this

how did you get my number (13:18)

 

**\+ 82 936 437 xxxx**

chill, man

it’s seongwoo (13:19)

 

**mincheong**

Oh

Why do I have to buy porridge for you (13:25)

 

**\+ 82 936 437 xxxx**

i’m dying

kidding. i’m sick ☹

and starving (13:26)

 

**mincheong**

So? Cook something for yourself (13:27)

 

**\+ 82 936 437 xxxx**

i would if i could only get out of my bed

please, Mr. Hwang.

i will owe you forever (13:28)

 

**mincheong**

You said that already one time

And still no

I’m busy

Bye. (13:30)

 

**\+ 82 936 437 xxx**

wow

are you by chance related to Elsa

because you’re cold as ice!!!!

hello???

minhyunnnnnnn

help i’m going to die

my stomach’s gonna eat itself

Minhyunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn (13: 37)

 

Seongwoo throws his phone away when Minhyun doesn’t reply within fifteen minutes.

Seething, he pulls out the tissue he stuck up his nose and pulls himself up, only to loll down a second later because of the pounding in his head.

He whines pathetically. His head hurts to the point of breaking, his whole body aches he couldn’t move an inch, and worst of all, his stomach is growling too.

Daniel came by in the morning to drop him breakfast and some medicine. But it has been a whole five hours since then and Seongwoo, who’s mouth is a non-stop mill, is close to passing out not because of his fever but because of the lack of food in his stomach.

Flipping on his belly, he groans once more, lamenting about beinf a sore loser who has no one to take look after him.

His moment of self-depreciation is interrupted when he hears a rapping against the door. 

He perks up, _finally_ , a human to save him.

“The door’s unlocked!” He shouts, or tries to, with his hoarse voice.

It’s probably Youngmin, who’s their second mother hen next to Jisung. He makes a mental note to show his love for Youngmin more once he recovers.

“I got you the spiced one. But I realized late that I shouldn’t have.”

Seongwoo turns to see Minhyun standing at the foot of his bed, a plastic bag on one hand and a small paper bag on the other.

“I should’ve just ordered the regular. Can you eat this? Oh, I got you medicine too.”

Seongwoo, despite the splitting headache, manages to pull himself up against the headboard.

“I thought you were busy?”

“I am,” Minhyun says, placing the paper bag down the bedside table and picking up the tray of dirty dishes. “I had to ask my co-worker to fill in for me for at least an hour.”

Seongwoo is speechless.

He has half a mind about reprimanding himself about contacting Minhyun in the first place, but having Minhyun here, despite saying he's busy, renders Seongwoo weak; because of the fever's heat, or an entirely different heat coursing anew his body, he doesn't know.  
  
Minhyun comes back with a new tray, the porridge now in a bowl, a glass of water, and few slices of fruit.  
  
He wordlessly eats when Minhyun tells him to, swallows his medicine when Minhyun hands them to him, and lies back down to rest after Minhyun helped him into a change of clothes.  
  
If Minhyun notices how oddly quiet Seongwoo is, he doesn't mention it and probably just attributed it to the fever. He prepares more fruit slices and places water bottles on the table before telling Seongwoo he had to return to the library for his shift.  
  
Seongwoo only nods, burrowing deeper into his blankets.

Only when he hears the front door closing does he shuts his eyes, tightly. His cheeks are heating up. Everything feels awfully warm but it's not the uncomfortable kind.  
  
  
When Nini comes padding into the room and jumps into the bed to snuggle with him, Seongwoo pats her head and whispers, "Hey, Nini. What do you think about having a fourth dad?"

 

 

_words that come from the heart_

_are never spoken, they get caught in the throat_

_and can only be read in one's eyes_

_-jose saramago_

 

 

viii.

They’re back at the noodle shop and surprisingly, Seongwoo didn’t have to drag Minhyun this time. Minhyun has been easily letting Seongwoo have his ways lately and Seongwoo doesn’t know how to read into this—is Minhyun finally opening up to him or is this just him being too tired to deny him? Whatever it is, Seongwoo knows better than to waste any opportunity.

“Hey, I never got to ask you why you were in the hospital that night.”

Minhyun hands the menu back to the waitress before responding, “When?”

“That time I asked for your name,” Seongwoo supplies and Minhyun’s easily remembers.

“Oh, I’m volunteering.”

“Volunteering? At the hospital?”

“Yeah,” Minhyun shrugs off his coat and tells Seongwoo to do the same, “I volunteer three days a week at the Pedia unit.”

“Oh, you want to become a pediatrician?”

Seongwoo catches it. It was barely there, but he’s keen; has developed an eye for every of Minhyun’s movements and expressions.

This time he caught hesitation and affliction crossing the eyes of the man before him.

Seongwoo also learned over the course of months knowing Minhyun about his habit of chewing on his lower lip when he’s deep in thought—one he’s doing right now.

“Can’t,” Minhyun finally says after almost a minute of silence, “time won’t permit.”

“Why not?”

“Just. Can’t.”

Also one thing about trying to know Minhyun better is that Seongwoo learned when to stop. He knows when there’s still room to press based on Minhyun’s voice, knows when to stop based on the way Minhyun bites on his lips, on the way he nervously nitpicks on his nails.

Timely, a server comes with their food, placing bowls of fried sauce and Yunnan rice noodles on the table.

“You ordered the same thing again,” Seongwoo remarks, reaching for two wooden chopsticks and handing one to Minhyun.

“I like familiarity.”

“That won’t do.” Seongwoo clucks his tongue and before Minhyun could react, switches their bowl.

A protest is already at the tip of Minhyun’s tongue but Seongwoo raising his palm stops him.

“Try this, okay?” Seongwoo starts to place the noodle, meat, and vegetables into the broth, mixing them diligently before pushing the bowl towards Minhyun, “Besides, I ordered it for you.”

Minhyun examines it warily before turning to Seongwoo, “You planned this already?”

Seongwoo shrugs, a cheeky smile painting his face.

“Maybe.”

 

When they finally start to eat and Seongwoo lives up to his brand as a messy eater, something happens out of nowhere that causes something inside of Seongwoo to break.

 

Minhyun is laughing.

Laughing with his mouth wide open, eyes closed and cheeks bunched up. Unadultered and no inhibitions whatsoever.

All because Seongwoo had some of the black sauce painting his teeth.

But if this is something he could witness out of his idiocy, Seongwoo would gladly play stupid everytime if it means a chance to see Minhyun smile.

Minhyun’s laughter sends a blanket of warmth that coats Seongwoo's heart for the rest of the night.

 

This is one for the books again.

More untangled thread.

An even more widening crack.

 

ix.

Minhyun attends one of Seongwoo’s gigs for the first time and Seongwoo is beyond ecstatic—he’s up in the clouds, high off the adrenaline of being on stage and maybe off the fact that Minhyun is among the crowd listening to his band’s music.

They say it's all about who you look for in a crowded room. That's where your heart belongs to.

Seongwoo knows it's game over when his eyes immediately search for Minhyun among the throng of people; when his feet carry him to Minhyun immediately after he exits the stage. 

The first thing he hears from Minhyun’s mouth when he reaches him is an admonishment of how he’s practically bathed in his own sweat. Seongwoo's heartbeat only skips a few at the display of care.

In his defense, drumming for seven songs straight is never a piece of cake. Minhyun pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to Seongwoo. If his heart  skipped earlier, now it freaking summersaults. Seongwoo accepts it, covering his mouth first to hide the wide smile that he could no longer restrain.

When Seongwoo finally dances off the high, he invites Minhyun to meet his bandmates, but the latter declined, saying _maybe next time_. Seongwoo doesn’t have the heart to be disappointed, he's more focused on the prospect of next time than his friends finally meeting the man behind the name Seongwoo constantly blabbers about.

He asks Minhyun to wait for him while he goes for a change of clothes and to meet his bandmates before he heads out.

And Minhyun does wait, outside the backstage door as Seongwoo instructed him with his dark green scarf around his neck and hands in his pocket.

“Hey,”

Minhyun looks up and walks towards him.

“Home?” Minhyun offers and Seongwoo nods.

 

It’s already past two in the morning and the streets are ghosted as expected. The wind is colder these days and Seongwoo finds himself walking closer to Minhyun until their arms are pressed together. Minhyun doesn’t move away and Seongwoo takes that as a good sign.

They’re at a pedestrian lane, waiting to cross when Minhyun mentions it.

“You know I’ve always had this crazy idea inside my head.” He says through a laugh, puffs of cloud coming out of his mouth as he speaks.

“Spill. Nothing’s crazy when it comes to me.”

Minhyun cocks an eyebrow at him, staring at him like he’s debating whether to bare another side of him or not.

“Well,” Minhyun inhales, the tip of his nose and ears red from the chill of the early morning breeze, “I, I wanted to try dancing on an empty street?” He laughs, embarrassed.

“Not really dancing, I don’t have the needed coordination. Just mindless dancing, you know?” He turns to Seongwoo and the latter meets him with an encouraging and genuine smile on his lips.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“The fact that it’s kind of crazy stupid?”

“Nah,” Seongwoo objects. The walk sign goes on and he grabs Minhyun’s hand to drag him to the middle of the lane, “Who’s there to say it’s crazy when nobody’s around to catch you?”

Minhyun bites on his lips, looks around, and laughs again. “This is crazy but fuck, who cares?”

And dance he did.

Funny dance. Stupid dance. Mindless dancing. It’s everything but coordination and grace, but for Seongwoo, Minhyun shines the brightest at this moment. No inhibitions, no restrictions, just Minhyun being the free-spirit that he should be.

Seongwoo doesn’t know when exactly he joined Minhyun, but he finds himself swaying to some inexistent song, too. They’re laughing, loud and echoing into the dead of the night. 

At one point, Seongwu reaches for Minhyun’s hand and pulls him closer, twirls him, again and again, and they continue to laugh mad like kids.

The walk sign has long changed but Seongwoo couldn’t care less, not when the only sound echoing inside his head is Minhyun’s laughter, Minhyun calling his name in short breaths of laughter, Minhyun, Minhyun, Minhyun—

Seongwoo kisses Minhyun. Hesitant at first, determined a second later. Their lips fit perfectly and Seongwoo's knees wobble at how Minhyun’s lips are pillowy soft as he bites on it, nips on it, sucks on it.

His hands come to frame Minhyun’s face, his cold palms a stark contrast from the warmth caused by the flush on Minhyun’s cheeks. 

They part but Seongwoo doesn’t pull away, only placing their foreheads together and their breaths mixing at the proximity.

Minhyun’s breath is warm and it tickles his cheek. His hands are ice cold when Seongwoo laces it with his.

 

“I like you,” he whispers.

 

Minhyun’s eyes meet his—they flicker—but for the first time, Seongwoo couldn’t read the emotions swirling in them.

“Seongwoo—what?”

“I like you,” he repeats, firmly this time.

Minhyun pulls away from his hold and Seongwoo instantly feels cold. Minhyun trains his eyes on the ground, his fist clenching and unclenching.

“You can’t. Seongwoo, you can’t.”

He's shaking and Seongwoo wants nothing more but to pull him in his arms.

“What do you mean?” Seongwoo tries to reach out but Minhyun only steps away more.

“You can’t like me, you can’t fall in love with me.” He whispers, almost to himself. He starts picking on his nails and Seongwoo worries even more.

“Why not? Tell me why I can’t—”

“You just can’t!” Minhyun lashes out and Seongwoo steps back in surprise. 

"I shouldn’t have let it reach this point. I shouldn’t have opened up myself to you. This is my fault.”

Seongwoo walks carefully towards Minhyun. His own heart is breaking inside his chest but he couldn’t bear the sight of Minhyun falling apart before his own eyes.

“Min, if this is about us being friends and you’re not ready to risk, it’s fine, I’m willing to wa—”

“No, Seongwoo, you don’t understand!”

“Then make me understand!” Seongwoo didn't intend to raise his voice, didn’t intend to scare Minhyun. But he’s utterly confused right now and he needs answers.

“Please,” he whispers, “tell me.”

 

Minhyun finally looks at him, his heart on his sleeve.

 

“Seongwoo, I’m dying.”

 

For a moment, the world is muted. 

For a moment, the world stopped spinning on its axis.

 

All Seongwoo can hear is the thundering of his heartbeat against his ribcage. All he can feel is the rushing of blood through his veins.

Is this some cruel joke? Seongwoo thinks.

He feels a thousand mixed emotions and nothing at the same time.

“What do you mean,” he stutters, voice scratchy, “You’re only 22, you’re healthy, Minhyun, you’re perfect—”

“No, Seongwo. I’m not ill.” Minhyun

breathes, and it’s hard, so hard that every inhale and exhale feels like there’s a dagger stabbing his chest repeatedly. “I’m cursed.”

Seongwoo has pathetically fallen into the pit of denial and lets out a bitter laugh instead.

“Cursed?” He laughs again, incredulous. “Fuck, Minhyun. This is 2018, at least give me a believable—”

“My mother died the night she left me at the step of my father’s house. She was 22.” Minhyun says, his chest heaving and hands shaking, “Her mother died giving birth to her, days before she turned 23."

 

Seongwoo’s mouth is dry. He wants to say no, that’s just some funny coincidence, Minhyun, you’re not going to die, you can’t die.

“A grandfather, the same fate before 23, cardiac arrest. I could go on with the list if you still don’t want to believe me, but Seongwoo,” Minhyun wipes at the tear that escapes his eye, “I am cursed and I am going to die. I can’t do anything about it. So please, save yourself before this will hurt you.”

 

Minhyun leaves, hurried steps down the streets without glancing back at Seongwoo who stays rooted in his place.

The night is cold, but it’s nothing compared to the ice slowly enveloping his heart, freezingly, numbingly.

Soon, the sound of Minhyun’s hurried steps vanishes into the night.

Seongwoo wishes this pain could vanish, too.

 

x.

Minhyun doesn’t see or hear from Seongwoo for an entire week.

They do not cross paths, in the apartment complex or in university.

Minhyun made it so. He thinks Seongwoo, too.

But somehow, the thought carries a heavy weight that settles gloomly on his shoulders.

He has grown used to having Seongwoo around, the other being a constant figure in his life for the past few months. The boy had a way of worming into his life, and if Minhyun is being honest, into his heart as well. 

But this is both for their own good, Minhyun convinces himself.

Who would want to indulge in such a limited love affair?

It would only cause you heartbreak, maybe even an irreparable one.

Minhyun repeats and repeats the reasons in his head. Why it’s good that he and Seongwu have parted ways. Why he and Seongwoo should never cross paths again. Why Seongwoo should never know that Minhyun probably feels the same way—

The knocking on the door startles Minhyun out of his thoughts. He absentmindedly walks towards the door and opens it.

Regret only comes after: there stands a stricken-looking Seongwoo with eyes full of longing and lips that are now sadly pale.

“You’re not the only one who can decide in this.”

“Seongwoo, I told you—”

“Minhyun, you can push me away as much as you want, but know this,” Seongwoo steps into the room, steps into Minhyun’s life again. He locks the door behind him, making it clear there’s no longer an escape route in this, “I’ll come back. I’ll come back a thousand times.”

The pain starts crawling up Minhyun’s throat and it’s difficult to breathe once again, “You’ll only hurt yourself. When I die—”

“You’re not going to die—”

“I am, Seongwoo.” Minhyun says defeatedly, for the first time. “I’m going to die.”

All restraints gone, Seongwoo marches forward to cup Minhyun’s face in his hands, locking their eyes together as he says the following words, “Then let me love you, while I still can, as much as I can.”

Minhyun knows this is wrong. He shouldn't lean against Seongwoo’s touch, shouldn’t have placed his hand over Seongwoo’s—but he does. After all he’s only human and humans could only pretend for long.

“It’s gonna hurt, Seong, being with me.”

Seongwoo slowly brings their foreheads together, relishing on the fact of having Minhyun so close to him again.

“Then I’m ready to get hurt.” 

Seongwoo brings their lips together for their second kiss. It’s bittersweet. 

Minhyun kisses back this time. He no longer has the strength to push Seongwoo away, not when his heart has long surrendered.

 

 

Across the universe, a clock starts ticking.

A laughter can be heard, one that’s not borne out of happiness but one that is almost cruel, a menacing one.

 

The countdown begins.

 

 


End file.
